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All 27.1 - Tattoo
Lucca was reading a book in the calm of the evening. As he flipped a page idly, he heard someone approaching. Turning his gaze upward, he was mildly surprised: of all the people he might have suspected to have been approaching him, Cohen was not one of them. "S'up, doc?" he asked. Cohen walked up, spinning his pen deftly between his fingers as he was often compelled to do. He had his alchemy kit with him, an odd sight considering that they weren't going anywhere for the night. He said, "I have a bit of free time, so I thought I'd come collecting. Give myself something to do." This garnered a confused frown from the druid. "Collecting whatnow?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. Cohen's expression was one of disbelieving disappointment. "Oh, please don't tell me you were that drunk." He rolled his hand around, "There was a party, and a dance contest, and a bet, which you lost?" His confusion held for a few beats longer, only to be swept away by a look of realization that quickly segued into one of vexation. He let out a groan, dropping his book into his lap, "Uuuuuugh, son of a'' bitch!" Letting his head fall back, he heaved a heavy sigh, "Yes, I remember now...fucking hell...do we have to do this ''now?" "Admittedly, no," Cohen ceded. "But is it honestly worse than later? Better now than me showing up wherever you live in ten years, uninvited and bringing up some old, forgotten point, shattering the comfortable illusion that I went far away somewhere and died." Lucca rubbed at his face, "Uugh, shut up man. Don't lump me in with jackasses like that; that ain't fair." Bringing his head back up to look at him, he sighed, "Fiiine. Whatever. Go ahead and do what you gotta do." As he spoke, he proferred his arm. He knelt and opened his kit, picking through the supplies and selecting a syringe. As he rifled about, he spoke without looking, "I hate to press the limits of your good faith, but, if your shifting is based in your biology, your blood is probably altered at this point. If I'm going to keep the sample viable and, fingers crossed, able to be propogated, I need it to be as fresh as possible. If I need to wait for the components to die so they revert back to their base state, well, it honestly isn't worth either of our efforts in taking the blood to begin with." All at once Lucca narrowed his eyes and dropped his arm to his side once more, his expression going hard. "Yeah, no. Not a fucking chance." Cohen sighed, "Really? What is the issue, anyway? We both know you're not a human, I'm not asking you to take your clothes off or go in front of other people or anything. I'd say I'd keep my eyes shut, but then I'd have a hard time finding a vein..." He looked over to him, his expression flat, "It will take less than two minutes. Are you honestly refusing?" "Fuck you," he growled, keeping his glare fixed straight ahead. Rather than answer any of Cohen's questions, he chewed at his lip, obviously deliberating very seriously. The doctor stopped what he was doing, and said with an almost tired tinge to his voice, "Is that a yes or a no? I don't have the patience to guess or the energy to argue. If it's a no, fine, I'll leave. I'm not wasting both of our times." It was a long time before Lucca responded, his voice cold and flat, "You got your shit ready?" "If your arm is." "Good." The druid cast his gaze around the area to reassure himself that it was secure, that they would not be intruded upon, and once more held out his arm. Turning his face pointedly away, he stared hard into the middle distance and pressing his lips tightly together, dispelled his shift. He closed his eyes briefly as the familiar changes swept over him, his discomfort only becoming more obvious as his true form was revealed. Cohen showed no reaction to the shift, other than to move methodically into action. He said nothing, other than a quiet mutter to himself as he went to insert the needle how he was supposed to locate a vein if apparently nothing had any colour. Lucca twitched and gritted his teeth as the doctor searched for a vessel, clearly far more bothered by the man's touch than the procedure itself. Regardless of this, he managed to quickly and effectively take a blood sample from Lucca's arm. The needle had barely left the druid's skin before he began shifting back to his customary form. Instructing him to press a piece of cotton he had provided over the puncture for at least a few minutes, Cohen took the vial of colourless blood and began to move through his kit once more, paying no more attention to the changeling. With both focus and haste, he began to distribute the blood into a series of new vials, each already containing a solution of some sort and labelled in a shorthand Lucca couldn't decipher. The druid watched him work silently, his expression a combination of intense curiosity and equally intense distaste. His eyes flicked frequently away and then back again, his face taking on a rather queasy cast when he kept his eyes on the blood for longer than a few moments. When the blood had been divided into no less than twelve samples, Cohen replaced them into their secure slots in the kit and finished replacing all of his other tools. "Hopefully at least one of those worked," he commented as he packed away his things. "It will be disappointing if all of the samples go stale, but considering it's still Materian blood, the formulas should work on at least one or two of them." "...What do they do? The formulas....why so many different ones?" Lucca ventured, his curiosity overcoming his distaste. "Well, if I want to do anything with blood, I need to keep the cells in it alive," he explained. "I have a little alchemical trick to keeping blood samples viable, but I wasn't sure if the feyness of your blood would cause it to fail. I only have the one vial to work with, and if it spoils, I'm out of luck, so I tweaked the formula a few different ways to maximize the chances of at least one working. If I have one viable sample stored, then hopefully I can replicate it. Again, I have an alchemical formula for that, which I sincerely hope will work. If it does, then I can study the blood at my leisure and see what I can learn or make." "Huh...that's kinda cool," he considered this, and after a pause, added, "...Maybe lemme know if you find out anything cool, eh?" As he spoke, he rubbed at his arms, looking the very picture of discomfort. Cohen stood up to leave, picking up his kit. At Lucca's question, he raised an eyebrow slightly. "If you're interested, of course. It's your blood, and it's not like I'm keeping anything secret." He made a face of sarcasm, "Gods know how well that goes over for me. But yes, I'll let you know what I find. At the very least, I should be able to determine why it's colourless. That might be...cool," he used the final word awkwardly. Glancing at Lucca, he quirked an eyebrow again and added, "And I suppose I apologize for offending you." He pursed his lips and sighed, giving a dismissive wave. "Don't worry about it, it's fine. Thanks though. And like....good luck, I guess?" "Heh," he grinned sardonically, "I have a terrible relationship with luck. I'd be happier if luck would just stay out of my business." He turned to leave, "I'll be out of your hair now. Have a better evening, and look forward to page 118." With that, he walked away, spinning his pen once more. ---- In the glow of the lamplight, Victor and Lucca sat in an innroom. Lucca, as usual, flipped through a book, while Victor brushed and braided Lucca's lengthy hair. It was as he finished the last of the plaits that Victor sighed, now having nothing to do. Glancing about the room, his eyes fell on something, and he grinned subtly. Lucca barely glanced up as Victor stood, retrieved some objects from the nightstand, and returned to his position. "Don't move," he said simply, and suddenly Lucca felt something foriegn, cold and a bit sharp against his skin. With a soft grunt, he twitched slightly at the strange sensation. Turning his head, but being careful not to move otherwise, Lucca shot a quizzical look over his shoulder. "The hell'' is'' that, geezer? What're you doing?" "I am entertaining myself," Victor replied smugly, and Lucca could see, from what little he could make out over his shoulder, a pen in his hand that he brought once more to the druid's white skin. Lucca made a face, rolling his eyes with a bemused snort. "By doodling on me?" He shook his head and gave a soft chuckle. "You're a big weirdo, you know that right?" Returning his attentions to his book, he settled back to how he'd been laying. Reaching up, he pulled a couple of stray braids over his shoulder, out of Victor's way, being careful not to interfere with his work as he did so. Victor smiled, drawing the pentip smoothly over Lucca's shoulder blade. "I suppose I am, so that is what you will suffer." As he sketched, he added, "I enjoy writing, the physical act of writing, but I don't often have the occasion where I have anything to say." Time passed quietly, and Lucca could feel the pen tip and Victor's hands making their way steadily down and accross his back, leaving complicated trails of ink that formed words or pictures that he couldn't even guess at. Victor chuckled, "You realize, of course, that this is going to be on you for days. Although I suppose you could clean it magically, if you got Pierce's wand." "Oh, but of course," Lucca replied with a wry chuckle, turning the page in his book, "That don't bother me none, though. I trust you aren't being a jackass and drawing dicks and writing slurs or something back there, so it's cool. Heck, even if you'' were,'' you've got some damn fine handwriting. They'd be the classiest fuckin' slurs ever, I'd probably roll with it." He snickered slightly, "Regardless, I'm gonna keep it as long as it stays." As he said the last words, a thoughtful cast suffused his features, and he slowly put down his book. After a few moments he gazed over his shoulder at Victor once more, an odd expression on his face. "I can write a single questionable word in gigantic, embellished font," Victor said with a grin, "Then tell Cress that I did so, but not which word, and see what he does to find out what word I chose." His eyes flicked up from his work for a second, noticing Lucca had turned around. He paused and looked up, asking, "What is it?" "I..." Lucca dropped his gaze almost shyly for a moment before continuing, "You should...draw me something...that could be made permanent." An odd little smile touched the corners of his mouth as he added quietly, "I...would like that..." Victor looked a tad confused, "What...like a tattoo design? Why on earth would you want me to make that; I'm no artist." He looked at his handiwork, and added, "Honestly, most of what I've done here is a poem I'd heard before, and that song Virgil likes me to play. Not really something you'd want as a permanent part of your skin." "Well yeah, that's why I said you should draw something for it...I figured you were just doodling right now, but you could make a design too. Wouldn't have to be right now either; you can take your time, do it whenever..." He sat up partway and twisted to face him. Looking away once again, he continued, the little smile still playing on his lips, "As for why...because you're you. That's the whole point." As he spoke, both his tone and expression hinted at the deeper meaning behind his words. After looking at him for a long moment, he gave his muted smile, "Well, if it's important, I suppose I could try to make something. What are you thinking of?" "You're still missin' the point, old man," Lucca smiled back crookedly, "That's your job." Sitting up fully now, he leaned in and looked up at him pointedly, "You come up with something, make it, pick where you want it to go. I just say 'Yes, sir' and get it done...but it's gotta be yours entirely otherwise." Victor chuckled lightly, "That's an awful lot of trust in my abilities. What if I do want to write racial slurs up and down your back? Or just write 'Mine' in block letters across your waist? Are you still going to get it done then?" "Well then, I guess I'd have to kick ya in the nuts or something afterwords, wouldn't I? Dickhead." He shot back with a laugh. "But no, I suppose I'd rather not, if you were gonna try something like that. I like to think you're cooler than that though," he added with a teasing grin. Shrugging, he turned and flopped back down on the bed once more, continuing, "I dunno, you don't have to do it at all. Just an idea." "I'm just surprised that you want to be permanently branded, and yet want no creative control," Victor explained. "What if I don't let you see it? What if you aren't allowed to see what I've made until after it's too late? Is that something you want to risk?" "I trust you." Lucca replied simply, stretching languidly and laying his head atop his folded arms. Chuckling more, Victor conceded, "Alright. I'll draw something. But you aren't allowed to see it until after it's too late." "...Wait...actually?" Lucca blinked, looking over his shoulder once again, questioningly. There was a long pause after a smugly-smiling Victor affirmed his statement as the younger man scrutinized him closely. "...Cool. Fine, deal." He finally agreed, punctuating his words with a firm nod and a crooked smile. "Well, then I suppose I'll start giving it some thought." ---- "Out of curiousity, and I do know that the choice of location is mine to make, do you have a preference for how visible it is?" Victor asked. He was scribbling up and down Lucca's arm, the fresh ink only slightly clearer than the older marks on his back that had barely faded any. "When it's finished and you can begin regretting your decisions for the rest of your life, would you rather it be somewhere you can see, or somewhere where only the knowledge of it haunts you?" "Oh for the love of the spirits! You are ridiculous, quit it." Lucca scolded. He gave his head a bemused shake, continuing, "And to answer your question, I suppose I'd rather it somewhere I could see it...yeah." Considering that for a few moments, Victor nodded, "Alright." ---- Several days had passed, and Victor had continued concertedly doodling on Lucca when given the chance, explaining it by claiming that he was practicing. When he had gotten to a point where most of Lucca's entire body was covered in random drawings and notes, he stopped and began to laugh. "What?" Lucca demanded, shooting him a suspicious glare. "What's your problem, jerkwad? What did you do?" He twisted about, trying to inspect the latest addition, continuing to demand an answer. Victor continued to laugh, until eventually Lucca managed to get him to explain, "Now that you're all covered in ink, you look even more like me. People would think you're my son." Lucca stared down at himself for a long moment, before muttering, "Eugh, for the love of..." He trailed off shaking his head, beginning to chuckle as well he added teasingly, "Well then, I guess that would make you look like a mega-creeper, eh?" Flashing an impish grin, he gave the older man a playful shove. "Dork!" "I'm creepy on a good day, that's no insult." He tousled Lucca's hair, earning a stuck out tongue in response. "All you're missing is horns and a tail, and we'd look the same race, at the very least." "That could be remedied." The druid snorted, grinning. "Well, one or the other at least, I can't have both at once. And I don't think there's any tail I could have that would step to yours...but I could totally get some seriously badass horns." Victor considered this, and replied, "It just makes me wonder what you consider to be 'badass horns', honestly. What makes some horns better than others?" He added with a frown directed towards his tail, "And I maintain that 'no tail' would step to this rather nicely, honestly." "All sorts of things, size, shape, how well they suit the owner..." He looked thoughtful for a few moments, then closed his eyes and focused. A crooked smile crossed his face as he sprouted a pair of ridged, black horns, running close to his head. They continued to grow, gradually curving as they lengthened to nearly three feet. Opening his eyes once more, he grinned, "See these? These're badass horns." With a snort he added, "And now I really do look like you, I bet." With a snicker, Victor said, "Why would you want horns like that? You wear pull-over shirts; you certainly wouldn't be making your life easy." He ran his finger along one, still giggling, and said, "But yes, I could see people considering yours to signal greater virility than mine. Heh. Or compensating for your lack of height." "Eh, shut your damn mouth, jackass!" He scowled, giving a haughty toss of his head. "They balance out my hair and work well with the overall..." He gestured vaguely, searching for a word, "...freaky stick-bug sorta look I've got goin' on. It's about the overall aesthetic. I'' think they're badass." He frowned, "Really? I wouldn't describe you at all as a stick-bug. That doesn't seem an adequate description at all." He smiled, "But you're right, they do balance well with your hair. They're from one of those southern deer, correct?" Lucca gave a nod of affirmation. With a smirk, Victor added, "Plus, they give me an additional hand-hold." He grabbed the horns and used them to leverage Lucca's head over, knocking him down and pinning him to the floor. "Hey! The hell was that for?!" Lucca squawked indignantly, trying to squirm out of his grasp. There was a hint of knowing laughter to his voice as he added, "Jerk! What do you think you're doing?" "I think you know full well," Victor replied, smiling. The younger man responded with a playful, impish grin. "Oh, do I now?" he asked teasingly. "Well, if you don't, you're a terribly slow learner." He leaned in, "Do you need to be trained harder?" "I dunno, maybe. What do you think," He asked coyly, quirking an eyebrow and grinning more broadly as he added, "my lord?" ---- "I think I've more or less decided what I'm doing," Victor said. "Although, I'd like to ask, how are you planning on getting this done, seeing as how you can't be tattooed while shifted?" Lucca pursed his lips thoughtfully at this, eventually answering with a shake of his head, "I actually have no clue...I haven't really given that any thought yet." "I suppose you could wait, and see if the druid artist will oblige you." "I dunno...who knows how long it's gonna take to get this 'All' bullshit wrapped? And then I'd have to go find her again and shit. And..." He dropped the thought, shaking his head once more, "To be honest, I'd rather not wait that long." "Well, as much as I can oblige you by pretending to be an artist, I won't go so far as to actually ink the tattoo. That's much finer work than I'm comfortable with, without practice." Victor thought for a few moments, "If it's that much of a rush, I suppose you could just go to any random artist. It's not like they know who you are or would ever see you again, but I can understand why that wouldn't be acceptable either." He shrugged, "I don't know. Pierce might possibly be able to do it, his ascention strength seems to lie in crafting, or possibly the doctor; I don't think that he's ever tattooed, but he's likely got experience putting needles in skin. But, all things considered, they are probably less of a solution than a complete foreign stranger, never to be seen again." Lucca frowned, his expression clearly illustrating his disapproval of Victor's suggestions. At the mention of Cohen, however, his face brightened suddenly. With a shrug, he explained, "Well, it's not ''that huge of a rush. Just like, nobody can say how long we might be at this, or what might happen..." he trailed off, worry flitting across his eyes briefly. Shaking it off, he continued, "But now that you mention it, the doc might not be a bad call...we should ask him if he thinks he can do it." Disbelief was plain of Victor's face. "I...didn't actually think that you would consider that an option, but, if you're comfortable with that, I have no qualms." With an annoyed expression, Lucca muttered, "Drunk Lucca is an imbicile who shouldn't be allowed to make bets." Sighing, he briefly explained the bet and its outcome, finishing by saying that Cohen had actually been rather good about it. "I'd rather deal with him again than some random stranger who might flip their shit. Plus, I don't particularly want another person knowing, regardless of whether or not I see 'em again." With a nod, Victor added, "Well, if that's the case, you can ask him; I'm sure you'll want to work out any details, regarding it. I suppose the easiest thing to do is to have me draw on what I want, then have him trace over the sketch. I assume he has enough tracing skill." "Yeah, that's probably our best bet," he agreed. "I'll see if he's down for it later." ---- "Yo doc," Lucca called over, "Got a minute?" Cohen's eyes flicked up from his book, and he replied sarcastically as he put it down, "I'm reading a book about northern bird migration, terribly similar to the other three you already had. I have several minutes." Lucca walked up to him, a flash of irritation flitting across his face. "Shit like that was my teacher's specialty; I guess I still had more of his stupid books still around than I realized." He gave a dismissive wave. "Anyways...you know anything about tattooing?" Raising an eyebrow, he replied, "In theory. Why? Am I being commissioned for more specialty dye?" He looked about, "And, if that's the case, I'm surprised by the lack of your friend." "Huh?" He looked confused for a moment, then shook his head, "Nah, this ain't got nothin' to do with Cressy...and I guess we could use some ink too, if you feel like making it? But I'd wager we can probably just buy that somewhere. But no, I was moreso wondering if you think you'd be able to do it, the tattoo itself." The question seemed to catch him off-guard some, and he paused and considered it for a moment. "...Well, I never have," he offered eventually. "But I know how it works. I suppose there's nothing technically stopping me. Why are we discussing this?" "Brace yourself, this might come as a shock," Lucca said, shooting him a flat, sarcastic look,"...But it's because I have a tattoo...that needs doing." "And yet, despite the looming apocalypse," he replied, just as sarcastically, "there are still literally thousands, if not tens of thousands, of qualified, practiced individuals in whom the tradition of tattooing lives on. Why are you asking me?" "Because you've seen me before." The druid stated matter of factly. Going on, he explained, "Tattoos are only permanent on me if I have them done while unshifted; otherwise they degrade and disappear as soon as I start shifting again. I had to have my Order tattoo redone a second time because of that, and it sucked shit, I'd rather not have a repeat of that. And before you ask, no, the tattooist that did that isnt an option, what with Mirilarin being thoroughly fucked by the All. So. I was hoping that you might be able to help me out?" Cohen replied, "I wasn't going to ask that; I'm not dumb. I just didn't know it had to be on your base form. But considering your shyness, it makes sense now." Shrugging, he continued, "I'm sure I can do it. It's just a series of dermal injections, and I'm sure I'll have a stencil of some sort to follow, since I assume you already know what you want and I honestly hope you aren't relying on me to freehand design something." "Thank you," Lucca said, breaking into an almost relieved smile, "And yeah, you'll have a design to follow, no worries." "Well, whenever you're ready," he said. Lifting the book, he said sarcastically, "It's not like I'm doing anything better." He flipped the pages idly, adding, "I'll be glad when I can stop wandering around like a nomad and have an actual lab again. I can't do any research when I have to pack up every night." "Sweet deal." With a sigh, he agreed, "I think we'll all be only too happy when this shit is finally over. Hopefully that's sooner rather than later." "Too true. Too true." He smirked slightly, glancing over the top of the book, "Want to put a bet on whether the zombie will try and arrest me?" Grinning as he turned to leave, Lucca pointed at him, "Hey, I am far too sober to be makin' bets with your ass right now, doc." He chuckled slightly, then added, "One would hope he wouldn't be that enormous of a prick though." Cohen looked smug as he went back to his book, "I think it would be rather funny, actually. Watching him try and rationalize it against his moral compass." "Oh no doubt, no doubt." The druid agreed with a snort. "I'll catch you later, doc. Oh, and are you gonna wanna make some ink, or shall I grab some somewhere?" "Well, it's easier if you buy it. I don't want to make it, so I'd rather only do it if you want, I don't know, some sort of obscure, glowing dye or something. I should have everything else though. Show up with your skin, a stencil and whatever dye you need, and we'll see if I have yet another hidden talent." "Awesome." He said with a nod, turning once more to leave, adding over his shoulder, "Thanks again, eh?" "No problem for me; you're the one trusting me to jam needles in you." ---- Victor took a deep breath. "Alright. Hopefully I can do this without twitching." Lucca sat still, wearing a blindfold. "Ah, you'll be fine," he snorted. He felt Victor take his arm and begin to draw something on the inside of his right arm, nearer to his wrist than his elbow. It wasn't the familiar tip of the pen that he felt drawn along his skin, however; it felt more like a paint brush. His mouth twitched slightly at the unfamiliar sensation and he turned his head toward Victor, commenting, "That's different...a brush?" "I like the way brush lines look, moreso than with a pen." Lucca could hear the smirk in his voice as he added, "But I didn't want you guessing as to what I might do in advance, so I practiced elsewhere." "Of course you did, of course. You're seriously makin' this a suprise," he said with a crooked smile and slight shake of his head. "Well, at any rate, it certainly feels ''nicer than penstrokes, I can say that much." "It's as I said. When you take off the blindfold and you have 'Property of Erzebet' written permanently onto your arm, you'll have no recourse." "Pssssh, yeah yeah, whatever." He rolled his eyes in spite of the blindfold, "As I said before as well: you're far too much of a classy bastard to do something like that to your 'property'. Nice try, though," he chuckled. Victor added, smiling, "You were warned." ---- The design finished, Lucca went to find the doctor. A cloth was tied around his arm, preventing him from seeing the ink that Victor had painted on him. Eventually, he located the man, scribbling away in a book of puzzles. "Hey, doc," Lucca greeted him, pulling his attention from his book, "You feel like doin' this thing? I've got my design and whatnot ready, if you are." "Now?" He shrugged, "Alright, let me get my things." He put down his book and stood up, moving towards his alchemy kit. "Sit down, I suppose. I have no idea how long this takes." Taking a seat, Lucca said as he fidgeted about, making himself comfortable, "Eh, depends on the piece, but it doesn't tend to be a short thing, ever. We'll probably be at this a while." "I'm sure the absence of any practice on my part will only make it that much longer. Is it something large?" he asked as he retrieved his tools. "I don't think so, no," he shrugged, glancing at the cloth around his arm. Cohen returned, looking at him expectantly. He gestured towards the wrapping, "...Is that where you want it?" He rolled his eyes, asking a bit sarcastically, "What is it of? Do you have a stencil, or is it drawn on already? What colours is it? I am going to need to know at least ''some''thing about what you want done." "It's already drawn on there, yeah. Whatever colours that it is are the ones you'll need; I'm gonna guess it's straight black, though? Beyond that, I honestly don't have a clue." Lucca answered shrugging once again, adding, "Either way, it's a straight trace job, so it ought to not be too difficult." "You...don't know," Cohen said as a statement and not a question. "You are getting a tattoo you haven't seen, put on by a man who's never done this before?" He added with a bit of a grin, "...Did you lose another bet?" "Nah, no bets involved," he replied, leaning back with a crooked smile, "S'all my call, this whole deal. Except the not knowing ''what it is till it's done bit. And even that, we agreed upon beforehand, so it sorta is too." "Well then, I suppose you best shut your eyes then, because I'm going to need to see it before it's finished," Cohen said, still grinning and gesturing for Lucca's arm. "Certainly," he agreed. Closing his eyes, Lucca dropped his head back against the back of the chair and held out his arm to Cohen. "If you could hand me scarf when you get it off, that'd be awesome." Cohen untied the cloth and passed it over; taking it, the druid tied the cloth over his eyes, inhaling deeply as he did so. Letting his breath out slowly, he unshifted and after a moment murmered quietly, "All set, ready when you are, doc." Lucca flinched sharply when he felt Cohen's hands take his arm. The doctor twisted it slightly in inspection, made a slight snickering sound, and let go; Lucca could hear him preparing his tools. The druid pursed his lips tightly at this, a slight scowl crossing his face. After a few moments, when it sounded like Cohen was almost ready, he muttered sharply, "Give me warning before you touch me, please." "Alright," he said, still fiddling with his needles. After another moment, he said, "I'm going to disinfect the area. Unfortunately, alcohol and most other disinfectants will cause the ink to run, so I suppose I'm using soap. I guess in the worst case, we can magically cure infections anyhow. Let's hope for the best." Lucca heard Cohen's chair move, "I'm taking your arm." This time he only tensed ever so slightly at the man's touch, a look of fierce concentration on his face. He muttered a quiet thanks, adding, "I'm sure it'll be fine; I don't get sick easy anyway." "Still better not to take chances," he replied. "Let's see...hmm...I think I'm going to fade the ink a bit first, so I can see what I'm doing. Then we can get into the actual business." Lucca heard the sound of glass clinking as it was moved around, followed by the feeling of the doctor wiping at the spot Victor had painted earlier. When that was done, Cohen said, "Alright. No reason not to start. Ready?" "Yes." Lucca said quietly with a slight nod. "Go ahead." Cohen began the meticulous process. As the needle darted in and out of his skin, Lucca began to gradually relax, settling more comfortably in his seat. A few minutes in, the doctor broke the silence, "Out of curiousity, is this the sort of thing where I'm permitted to blather inanely? I ask because I will start talking to myself if my mind wanders." The needle pricked Lucca's skin again, "I have rather involved personal conversations, if I don't check myself. Over the years in isolation, I rather forgot how to keep my mouth shut. Not that it was a skill I had much of to begin with." Lucca nodded once more, "You can talk all you like, I don't mind. Talk to yourself, talk to me, talk to the walls, whatever. It's all cool." "That's good. I'd rather not have the pressure of having to maintain any sort of feasible conversation for hours, or to try and actually be quiet for that long. It's odd, actually, that both silence and noise are annoying to me. I'm sure there's a perfect level of ambient sound somewhere, I just haven't found it yet. Also, feel free to interject or steer me in whatever conversational direction you want, I'm not particular. I'm thinking aloud, moreso than actually communicating, so it's no different to me what I'm thinking about." He continued to chatter, considering the nature of thought and sound, his hands trained on their task, even if his mind wasn't. Lucca for his part remained largely silent as the doctor chattered away, but the rare interjections and comments he offered showed that he was in fact listening. He remained almost perfectly still as the man worked, save for the occasional clenching and unclenching of his opposite hand when he hit a nerve. He made no attempt to steer the conversation, in spite of Cohen's offer, seemingly content to listen to whatever he felt like talking about. ---- It was much later that night when Cohen finally pulled back and announced, "Alright, I don't think I mangled your arm too badly, and I don't think I missed anything. You've been tattooed before, you know the drill. Keep it clean, let me know if it gets infected. Or cure it yourself, whichever." "Cool. And yeah, I know all about that. Gotta love the afterparty." Lucca said quietly. It was a long few moments before he moved to take off the blindfold, and he did so slowly, almost hesitantly. He loosely folded the cloth, paying great attention to it as he did so, before setting it in his lap and finally turning to inspect his new tattoo. It wasn't large, only a few inches square across his forearm. In black ink, a small silhouette of a wolf was drawn, sitting and looking up at a full moon, with the word 'Forever' written under it. The whole thing had retained its brush-stroke quality, and looked reminiscent of Yeto calligraphy. Lucca stared at it silently for quite some time, his expression wide-eyed but oddly blank otherwise. He raised his hand as if to touch it, his fingers hovering a few inches above his skin for a few seconds before pulling them back. "I...thank you, Doctor Cohen." He eventually murmered, his voice displaying a strange, distant quality and his eyes still locked on the artwork. "Thank you very much..." Cohen had busied himself with cleaning and packing away his utensils. When Lucca finally spoke up again, he glanced over. "It seems to have turned out well, if I do say so. Now I can put 'tattoo artist' on my list of 'hobbies no one would suspect I have'." He yawned, "But first, a few hours of sleep." Pulling a small vial out of his pocket, he placed it on the table in front of Lucca. "There," he said without further explanation. The druid blinked a couple times and regarded the bottle with a look of vague suspicion, "What is it?" "Disguise Self," he said simply. "If your shifting is biological and interferes with the pigmentation, then you can't shift until it's healed, correct? If keeping your basic appearance hidden is so important that you had me tattoo you just so that there would be one less person in on the secret, then I can't imagine you wanting to walk around without a cover. This is an illusion, not a transmutation, so it shouldn't bother the healing process. It will get you to your room, but I'd suggest borrowing your partner's hat for tomorrow; it's not exactly long-lasting." Lucca just stared at the vial, his expression bordering on astonishment. After a few moments, he reached to take it, a slight self-effacing smile touching his lips. "...And here I was just gonna use the 'hood, gloves, and run' trick and hope for the best," he said quietly. Turning to Cohen with a deeply earnest look, he added once again, "Thank you." "Yes, aren't I just the most terribly nice person?" he said with a sardonic smirk. "It's no problem for me; I usually make one of those everyday anyhow. It's a good emergency spell," he shrugged. "I'll be remaking my extracts in a few hours anyways. It may as well get used." He yawned again. Nodding slightly, the druid uncorked the vial and gulped its contents. He gave a soft sigh of relief as he once more resumed his usual human appearance. Turning to Cohen, he thanked him yet again, before adding, his gaze pulled back to his tattoo, "I-I'm sorry to just up and run as soon as you're done...but there's somewhere I've gotta be... and you said you need to sleep anyway...So I'm gonna go, and I'll catch you later, eh? And thank you again, so much..." "Feh," he said with a smirk, "why would you hang around? You spent hours here as it was, and it's not like anyone hangs around a store after they're done." He waved him off, "Go on. Get, before the spell wears off." With a crooked smile, Lucca conceded, "Yeah, true..." It took a moment for him to reluctantly pull his eyes from his arm. "Alright, I'm out, have yourself a good night, doc." He said as he got up and headed for the door. "Good sleep, you mean. I'm done for tonight," he replied, returning to his things. ---- Stepping lightly, Lucca made his way quickly back to their room. Moving silently, he slipped inside and padded across the floor to the bed where Victor was already asleep. He sat gingerly on the edge, careful not to wake him. Lucca gazed at the other man almost tenderly for a long moment, before leaning in with a brief but passionate kiss. "You're a big, fucking, sappy-ass dork, you know that, old man?" He whispered huskily, his voice heavy with emotion. "I honestly dunno what the fuck I'm gonna do with you." Victor, ever the light sleeper, stirred at the sound and motion. His eyes opened slightly, and it took him a few seconds to resolve his surroundings and the figure sitting beside him. With a sleepy murmer, he muttered, "Mmm, s'it done?" "Yeah, it's done." Lucca gave a small, crooked smile, his gaze dropping back to the tattoo as he added softly, "It's beautiful..." Still not quite awake, he gave a quiet, sleepy chuckle. "Didn't know what a tattoo should look like," he mumbled. "N' now you've got my sentiment on you forever. Heh heh," he chuckled at the reference. "You keep using that word, keep promising forever, so I thought it fit. S'at what you wanted?" "Yes, it's perfect." He murmered, lightly brushing a lock of hair from the other man's face. "Absolutely perfect...thank you." As he spoke, he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his sweater. He slipped under the covers and curled up next to Victor, wrapping him in a tight embrace. "Thank you so much," he whispered once more, his voice a bit tight. Victor returned the hug, folding around the smaller man. "No, thank you," he said. "S'your word, your act. I'm just, heh, just a sappy old man." "My sappy old man." Lucca asserted firmly. Snuggling in under his chin and squeezing him tighter, he added at a whisper. "For always. Forever." Victor made a contented humming sound, and fell back asleep, Lucca in his arms. Category:Advent of the All